


Late Nights

by anxietyincc



Series: Nagito-centric [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempt at Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Author projects onto Nagito, Character Study, Depression, Hajime Hinata (not mentioned but implied), Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda (not mentioned but implied), Hope, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, Intrusive Thoughts, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, Komaeda Nagito-centric, M/M, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Suffering Komaeda Nagito, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxietyincc/pseuds/anxietyincc
Summary: Late nights were always the hardest for him.The roof of his bedroom, slowly stopped spinning.And he got up once again with a sigh.~Nagito centric one shot.
Relationships: (If you squint REALLY REALLY HARD), Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Nagito-centric [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203377
Kudos: 13





	Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> TW: reference and implied self harm  
> depression   
> Intrusive thoughts   
> And   
> Other unnamed mental illnesses.

Nagito smiled. The kind of sad smile that hits your lips late. The kind that makes you wonder whats going through their head. 

He sat on his bed, curled up. It was dark, it was late. The room smelled of utterly nothing, and the air making no difference despite the coldness that hit his skin. He had to get up early, earlier then he usually did. But he couldn't find it in himself to sleep.

The weight in his chest, felt like a brick.

He'd screwed up. He kept screwing up. Every time he tried, he messed things up worse. He never meant to. He'd tried so hard, but his words were always twisted.

He got up, smile still on his face. He looked at his desk. Pen not knife. Paper not skin. Drawing not blood. He reminded himself. He couldn't afford to relapse again. Just draw. Just draw your feelings away.

His brain screamed.  
It was yelling. Everything was loud, the room was spinning and ringing and painful until it wasn't. 

Until everything was normal again. His legs moved on their own. He didn't mean to walk past his desk. He didn't mean to get to the bathroom. He didn't mean to get blood anywhere. But now it was too late. 

Nagito took a deep breath, slowly collapsing onto his floor. This was what he deserved. He didn't deserve to get better, this was fine, it had been fine, until it wasn't.   
He deserved to be hated. He deserved it he told himself. But in the back of his mind. He didn't want it. He wanted to be loved. Unconditionally.

But that would never be so. He was alone. He always would be. Til the end of time.  
Nagito smiled, moving to get up. Starting a shower.

It stung. 

He slowly made his way out of the bathroom. Back into his room.

He looked around, he was breaking again. Into tiny tiny pieces.

He hated to destroy their efforts to put him back. Hated to rip their progress out of their hands, but it was all he could do. Maybe somethings were too broken to be glued together again.

Throwing the towel to the side and throwing on a loose shirt, he lay back down in his bed. The roof gradually spinning and stopping, as his breathing raised and fell. 

He'd try again tomorrow he told himself. He'd try again tomorrow.  
To cope without hurting more. 

He was so tired. 

Not because of the time, or the insomnia chipping away at his physical health.  
Not because of his eating habits slowly decaying. 

But because of the emotional toll everything slowly took on him.

‘Ha can't even stay clean for a month, maybe i am utterly worthless’

The thought crossed his mind, bringing back the bad thoughts, the thoughts that made his cover his head with a pillow and squeeze his eyes as shut as they can go.

To maybe close out the voices. Maybe find peace in all the sanity.

His only hope; [hope: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.] was that one day in the distance future.

This would only be a memory. The wounds, the hurt, the pain, the heavy weight on his chest would all be gone. 

Not taking comfort in the silence, but being part of the noise.

Being happy. Being loved. 

It was the only thing, he every truly hoped for.


End file.
